A Kitten's Quill
by lostmiasma
Summary: Join Rei, so-called aspiring writer, as he relates a tale that, to think, all began with a woodchuck.


Warnings: I love the Bladebreakers, I really do. But if you're a mindless rabid fan with no sense of humor at all, please don't read any further. It's just, torturing characters is _fun_. Don't expect anything remotely epic, as this entire thing will be rather silly and painful (at least, for our dear Bladebreakers XP). Oh, and don't flame me – give constructive criticism instead, okay?

Supposedly, this takes place sometime in the first season before their trip to Russia. So... no Hillary. And Kenny will be absent also, as I'm a lazy person who doesn't want to write too many characters. XP And frankly, the kid bores me.

……

Disclaimer: To my utter sorrow, none of the characters below or the concept of Beyblading belong to me.

……

_A fortune teller on the street told me I should be writer. I just told him he was spouting a load of bull. After all, mystic happenings and such aren't really my thing._

_If so, then what am I doing sitting in front of a computer, typing out this thing? That… is actually a very good question. There really isn't a reason for writing this, at least, not a sane one. But this is a tale that has to be told – someone would likely be amused by it, as, of course, it's natural for humans to laugh at another's suffering._

_Keep in mind that as ridiculous as situations may sound, they were actually very serious and very life-threatening. Don't be insensitive and laugh at us, please. Rather, feel pity for us. We need as much as we can get. We're not clowns; don't think that these things happen to us because we want them to. For some strange reason they just do. I think it's Tyson's fault. Things always happen around him._

_In any case, if this turns out generally readable, I might actually consider a career in writing. I was planning to be a professional beyblader for life, but the more rational part of me told me that at the point of age thirty or so, I would probably look stupid launching a blade into a stadium. At the age of sixty, I would look like a hippie hoping to be a kid again. Scary people, those are._

_Kai thinks I'm being stupid. Then again, he thinks everyone's stupid. Max says I should go for it. Tyson doesn't seem to care – or he at least cares more about his ice cream than my future. That's not as offensive as it sounds actually, as he probably cares for ice cream more than his own future too. Kenny used to support my dream, but then I tried to steal his laptop to accomplish said dream, and the little guy blew a gasket, nearly concussing me with my own blade. Never underestimate the quiet ones, as they always say._

_This isn't going to be some high achievement of literature. I'd have to have flowery words and be oh-so-eloquent for that. No, I'd think of this more as the ramblings of a wannabe-writer or a quick glimpse into the lives of your favorite beybladers (c'mon, you love us). If anything, this'll be the memoirs of a poor young man who chose to associate with the wrong people and thus will be lead to an early and very much pathetic death._

_Of course, that's only if things continue on their current path. The meaning of that will be explained as you read on… And remember, don't laugh at us. Pity is all we ask…_

……

It hadn't started out as a bad day, not even by our standards. There were no earth-shattering events, everyone was generally intact, and by no means did Tyson attempt to sauté a live bird in the microwave (that would have been two days ago). Insanity was normalcy when a group of individuals as different as my team were thrown together, so of course it would take a lot of knock us off kilter.

But something did happen. And all hell broke loose.

"…Where are we?" Tyson finally asked. He scratched the back of his head slightly, mussing up his already untidy hair.

"By a mountain," Max replied, without even the slightest bit of sarcasm in his voice. Poor kid, he was actually being serious. But really, sometimes it's futile to try to remedy an already bad situation.

"I know that," Tyson snapped, placing his hands on his hips, "Anyone can see that… that… _thing_ behind us. But _what_ mountain is it? _Where_ exactly is this place?" He was obvious trying for the indignant frustration look but failing miserably. I rather pity my teammates sometimes. They just don't have the natural grace I do.

Me, conceited? Never.

"Does it look like we know?" Kai countered evenly. Though, calm as his voice was, it was obvious by the slight twitch in his eyebrow and the way his arms, crossed at his chest, were unnaturally tight in their grip that he was in quite the bad mood.

Then again, when is he not?

"But don't you have an answer for _everything_, Mr. Team Captain?" Tyson asked sarcastically.

It seemed Tyson didn't have the same logic as me. But then again, the very existence of his logic was questionable – not that that's necessarily a bad thing, as in some situations, the logical way isn't always best. Kai, though, functioned in a highly logical manner (most of the time, at least), and as such, to try to combat him armed with no logic at all would be a very traumatic experience.

Maybe that's why Tyson's so… scrambled in the head.

"Contrary to appearances," Kai said dryly, "I am human. And I believe it's beyond normal human capabilities to, in the middle nowhere, determine one's exact location."

We blinked. And blinked again.

Kai was… speaking Kenny.

"…What did you say?" Tyson asked dumbly.

Kai's eyebrow twitched in a quick motion. "We're lost," he stated simply, so simply it was clear he was degrading Tyson's intelligence.

Tyson screamed, whether out of frustration or panic, I don't know. It was a loud scream, one that, if this had been a cheesy cartoon, would have scattered all the birds, eradicated the breeze, and all in all would have a set a moment of eerie silence once the screaming in question had stopped. But this was reality, and as such, it only resulted in my eardrums feeling as if they had been offered as ceremonial sacrifices to the nearest tribe of native turkeys.

Wonderful feeling, I tell you.

Tyson's the type to overreact to everything. He's the sort of dramatic attention-grabbing sort of person that almost naturally attracts others to him. Natural charisma? Maybe. Or it could be natural human instinct to stop a disaster before it starts.

Sorry, I'm rambling, aren't I?

At this point, Tyson was running around in circles nearly tearing his hair out. If our situation had been any less dire, I would have been laughing my ass off. But as it was, I was dealing the utter oddness of being stuck in the middle of _nowhere_ with nothing but a can of spam.

Yes, you heard me right. A can of spam.

Before you can get on my case about how one should always prepare for a long trip, especially one in the middle of nowhere, I must assure of that none of this was any of our ideas. In a strange roundabout way, it _was_ our fault though, or at least that of Tyson and Kai.

I don't blame them (or so the angelic side of me is trying to argue). They're just naturally like that.

You see, due to extenuating circumstances, Mr. Dickenson had come to the conclusion that there were disturbances in the framework of the Bladebreaker beyblade (his words, not mine). Odd, considering I didn't think there was anything unusually abnormal about that week, except that _one_ conversation, but I would think that constituted the happy house rather than a frolic in the woods.

Don't ask, please don't. It's safer for your sanity that way.

I was still watching Tyson, my eyes following his (to my relief) rapidly slowing steps – after all, a guy can only run so long before getting tired. See, that's how you deal with Tyson. He's a whirlwind that'll only destroy you if you get in its path – but if you let it run out of steam on its own, things will eventually go your way.

Or you could do like Kai and stick your foot in his path. That works too, though you would have to be as cold and scary as Kai to avoid the consequences.

Tyson got waveringly to his feet, stars almost visible in his eyes. He opened his mouth, screaming obscenities in what he assumed to be Kai's direction. Unfortunately, he _was_ rather dizzy, and as such was screaming to a tree with a large vine draping down that vaguely resembled Kai's scarf.

Kai was understandably rather miffed, as the tree in question was rather ugly and deformed with a fat bushy squirrel sitting where his 'hair' would have been.

"So…" Max spoke up after a moment, when it became apparent that Tyson would not be joining them anytime soon, "What do we do?"

I shrugged. "Get un-lost?" Now, I was being more than a little sarcastic, and to someone such as Max, that was more than a little callous. But I was lost, confused, and irritated and thus allotted lapse in judgment.

Max bit his lip, casting worried glances around. "Maybe this was a good idea."

There was a distinct snort from Kai at that, and even my own eyebrows shot up at that. Since when does _anyone_ think it's a good idea to be stranded in the middle of a strange forest with a group of people that belong more in the happy house than anything?

"Don't you see," Max continued, voice increasing in earnest and hands spread out in front of him, "Mr. Dickenson was right. In order for us to win, we'll have to be able to work as a team. If we don't, there will only be more arguments and more trouble."

"And how…" Tyson interrupted, turning from the Kai Tree (looking vaguely perplexed that there were two Kais, I might add) and joining the relatively sane world once more, "How does that relate to dropping us in the middle of, for all we could know, the Amazon?"

"It's obvious," Max said smugly. Oddly enough, for once he seemed to know more than we did – not that I'm demeaning his intelligence or anything, but we all know how naïve the kid is. "You've seen in the movies how a group of people who don't know each other at all are oh-so-coincidentally dropped in some strange world and through hardships and struggles soon emerge as the best of friends."

It took a moment for all that to sink in.

I, priding myself with being able to keep a cool mind in all circumstances, said a few choice words that I would be very much ashamed to ever admit to saying. Cursing is an art, especially in eloquence.

Tyson began another tirade, his target now being a short stout stump with a large amount of fungus growing out of it. Somehow, I think he managed to jumble his brain up more than any of us expected – either that, or he was too furious to act rationally.

Kai did a prompt about-turn, stalking away in the direction he assumed to be the way out. Yup, that's our Kai, always choosing his own way, being the right one or the wrong one. And somehow, judging from the interesting sounds we heard and the way he strode quickly back into the clearing we were situated in, it was not the right way.

"Lone wolf routine not working?" I said dryly, my gaze catching the bluish-purple stain marring his once pure-white scarf. Frankly, I did not want to know what had caused that – a giant killer blueberry came to mind, but we all know that's impossible. Hopefully.

Kai didn't reply; I didn't expect him to. No, in his typical dignified manner, he merely turned his nose up to me, crossing his arms while making sure his soiled scarf did not touch any other part of his body. Who would've thought, Kai of all people was fashion-conscious.

I bit my tongue, resisting the urge to call him prissy.

"This is what he meant!" Max exclaimed, waving his arms in a manner that loosely resembled a penguin attempting flight, "Tyson doesn't care about anything but himself." Tyson gave an indignant squawk at that. "Kai always wanders off at whim." Kai sniffed, closing his eyes in a subtle sign that those words did not perturb him in the slightest. "And Rei always acts like nothing's wrong, despite the mess collecting right under his nose!" Now, that was offending. What did he mean not try to fix anything?! Sure, I prefer not to get involved in things that might get messy, but _still_.

"And what about you," Tyson muttered, "Mr. Optimistic-to-the-point-of-annoyance."

"I just like thinking positive," Max said defensively, "It's better than being a cynic." None of us missed the subtle toss of his head towards Kai.

"I'm not a cynic," Kai said calmly, "Even if I believe humanity to be a bunch of incompetent fools, I don't deny my own talents."

"That's merely self-absorption," I couldn't keep my mouth from uttering. Oh, I was getting a headache. Alright, so Max was right. Our team was slowly degenerating into a bunch of squabbling babies.

Like any of us cared enough to fix that.

And it was just that mentality that caused us to embark on the single most bizarre adventure of our lives – which is saying a lot, considering the shit we've been involved in.

As I said before, pity us.

……

Don't forget to review! And the woodchuck? _That_ will be explained later.


End file.
